


it's futuristic bullshit, baby

by soulas



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: But also, Gen, coffee shop AU, not a coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 00:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17632478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulas/pseuds/soulas
Summary: Ryan thought he'd encountered pretty much every weirdo out there at the coffee shop. This one is new.





	it's futuristic bullshit, baby

**Author's Note:**

> another partially finished prompt

It’s been a long fucking day for Ryan. Twelve customers decided that a messed up order was enough to launch a full on rant, yelling at both him and the new barista, a quiet freshman in college who took on two customers before ducking into the backroom and leaving Ryan to batter off the remaining soccer moms and irritable businessmen. The coffee machine broke again, which was just typical, leaving a sticky stain on his new shirt. And to top it all off, he suddenly remembered that he forgot to call his mom last week, which makes him feel like a shitty son.

Most of the orders he get are ridiculously long, filled with words just thrown together in a way that loses all coherent meaning. What the fuck is a double iced caramel mocha skim-latte with three extra shots supposed to even taste like?

But his least interesting order of the day award goes to this guy who’s like this weird mix of lumberjack and hipster with his red plaid shirt and beanie and clear-rimmed glasses. Just a weird looking dude all round, Ryan thinks to himself idly. Lanky frame, with a large head, so he looks like he’s about to overbalance at any moment.

The guy orders a single small black coffee, hands over $1.79 exactly, and takes it to his table without even getting one of those protective sleeves they have at the side.

Eventually the day winds down and the coffee shop slowly empties of college students and young corporates and exhausted mothers. When the coffee shop gets this quiet so near to closing time, Ryan usually closes shop a little early. 

Unfortunately, that tall plaid dude is still comfortably seated in the corner, calmly typing away on his Macbook. 

Ryan pointedly starts to turn off the coffee machines, wipe down the tables, and just trying to give off the impression of “shop’s closed, let’s go, buddy.” He’s pretty much relying on every millennial’s reluctance to engage with a service worker away from behind the cash register. But he finishes cleaning up and the guy is still there. 

Ryan noisily starts closing the shades, letting them fall with an loud whizzing noise before banging into place.

Nothing. The guy just keeps on methodically typing away on his Mac.

Well, time to bring out the big boys, Ryan thinks grimly to himself. He rummages around the storage closest until he finds their ancient vacuum cleaner that at any times is this close to spontaneously combusting and killing everyone inside the coffee shop (and probably a good number of people outside). It makes a sound like nails on a chalkboard combined with the wheezes of a million smokers. 

Ryan tugs on the cord and fires it up. He carelessly lets it clatter against tables and chair legs and occasionally, the wall.

The customer doesn’t so much as blink. Ryan moves a little closer, vacuuming under the table next to him. Plaid shirt doesn’t even look up.

Jesus Christ, Ryan thinks to himself, ramming the vacuum cleaner back and forth under the table. What is it going to take, I want to go home, you asshole.

Nada. Nothing. Just that precise pitter-patter of fingers hitting keys.

“Hey buddy,” Ryan says, leaning against the guy’s table. “We’re closing soon if you could finish up, thanks.”  
The guy looks up slowly and Ryan doesn’t know why but a chill runs down his back. He backs away from the table.

“I’m Shane,” the guy says. “And this place doesn’t close for another half hour.”

Ryan breathes out through his noise, a little frustrated. “Yeah, it’s an early day, okay, Shane? You finished your coffee hours ago anyways.”

“It was pretty funny watching you making the most amount of noise you could,” Shane says placidly, ignoring Ryan’s hostile tone. “Like watching a, a chicken run around, ya know?”

Ryan splutters. “What the fuck, man?”

Shane just stares at him with a neutral, unsettling gaze, almost bug-like in its intensity.

Ryan squints and mentally calculates the amount of time it’ll take for him to bolt back behind the counter and grab his phone to dial 911.

But before he can move, Shane nods, a stilted jerk of his head, and makes his way for the door.

Ryan smothers a sigh of relief. He was this close to punching the daylights out of this weirdo if he made one move towards him.

“Come on, Ryan,” Shane interrupts in that mild tone, not looking back at him. “Let’s go.”

Ryan’s heart is racing pretty goddamn fast at this point. “Go? What the hell, I’m not going anywhere with you. And how the fuck did you know my name?”

“You’re Ryan Bergara,” Shane says, as if it were obvious, turning around to pin Ryan with that blank stare again. “You like rollercoasters and you hate blueberries and your lockscreen right now is a picture of your brother’s dog. You believe in ghosts and you own almost fifteen jerseys, which, by the way, is close to a crime.”

Ryan blinks. “Um. What. What the fuck. Are you some kind of fucking stalker, because I’m going to call the police. I have my phone right here, and I’ll call them, if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.”

Shane takes a step closer to Ryan. “You can’t do that because your phone is by the cash register. How do I know? Because I’ve lived through this scenario a hundred times. What, he’s fucking insane, you’re thinking. Well, it’s true, and I’m getting tired of your skeptical ass all of a sudden showing up when you’ve believed that the storage room is haunted for the last three years.”

Ryan takes a deep breath. “Holy…shit. How do you know that, I’ve never told anyone about the storage room.”

“Because,” Shane says, starting to look very worn out. “As I’ve said probably twenty times in the last five minutes of my life. I’m from the future and as I repeat myself for what surely is not the last time, we need to go now.”

Ryan doesn’t know if it’s the insane details Shane has pulled from his head or the urgency in his eyes or the fact that he’s 90% sure this is a dream, but he exhales and says, “Alright.”

Shane looks up. “ ‘Alright’? Jesus Christ, it’s a miracle, okay, let’s go.” He turns quickly and pushes his way out of the cafe. Ryan pauses before stripping off his apron and rushing after him.

“So where are we going?” he asks, catching up to Shane’s stupidly long strides. 

“To the future,” Shane says a little slowly, as if it’s obvious. “And by the way,” he says, looking straight ahead. “I knew your name because you were wearing a name-tag. Dumbass.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://sovnly.tumblr.com/)


End file.
